“Colonel!” D’Artagnan pointed to the black dogs, which were cautiously on the move again. Still some distance from the circle, but moving around to where the other hellspawn had assembled. And so too, I could feel the ground beneath me tremble as footfalls sounded, a horde of creatures moving fast from the park beyond. A loud thrashing noise sounded to my right; a huge demon landed just outside the circle, its knees bent in a crouch. Slowly, it stood and rose to full height, wings folding behind it. It had a face like a lion but with great ram horns, and a long tail that thrashed away behind it, cracking the air. A pair of hag’s breasts hung from its hairy chest and it raised its arms as it bellowed its displeasure at finding the protective circle.
Billy was taunting them all now. It was as if by screaming at them he was purging himself of all that he had believed before. Now he knew hell did exist. He stamped again, swung his sword around his head, and before I could reach him, I saw his foot fall outside the circle. Even as I cried out a warning, I watched as one of the demons seized Billy’s ankle and pulled him out as easily as if he had been a child. And then I was outside the circle too, landing a downright blow to the creature’s arm. D’Artagnan gave a cry behind me and followed. Ashmole’s pistols exploded into action; he must have been firing at the hellhounds. I was swinging like a madman, whirling to keep them off, as were Billy and d’Artagnan. A clawed hand raked the front of my thick leather buff coat, ripping it like taffeta.
But the blessed silver swords were biting and I saw the creatures hesitate when they caught sight of the Tetragrammaton on our breasts. So too, there appeared to be some surprise that our weapons could do them hurt. There was some small hesitation from them now, maybe enough to give us a fighting chance. A great bat-like thing tackled d’Artagnan from above, the two of them tumbling to the earth. The Frenchman sprang up and severed the demon’s wings from its back, a horrible screech coming from the creature. I pushed Billy back into the circle and yelled for d’Artagnan. A black dog was loping towards him now and if it had not been for a demon landing between him and the beast, he would have surely been in its jaws.
Something hit me from behind, knocking me to my knees, and I instinctively rolled to the side, raising my blade up to shield myself. An ape-faced demon stood over me, grinning, then fell on me, trying to wrench the sword from my grasp while using its other hand to try and claw my face. I think I was roaring just like the creatures, a mix of fear and desperation. I glimpsed Billy again, saw his blade descend, and the creature screamed and stumbled off of me.
“Get back into the circle!” cried Ashmole, letting off his pistol again at a black dog. This hound must have been hit several times by now for it was hunched over and moving slowly, spit pouring from its mouth, eyes rolling up in pain. But then I saw it catch sight of d’Artagnan, and some new power must have driven it forward, intent on its victim. The musketeer was almost at the edge of the circle when the thing leapt a full ten feet and knocked him down with its shoulder. As I ran to him, I heard d’Artagnan scream as the hound took his leg in its great jaws. I plunged my blade into the hellhound’s side, a great overpowering stench rising from the beast. I felt the blade slide in as if it was slicing a pudding. The hissing of the silver as it singed the creature’s wet fur was like some angel’s cry. I yelled as I drew it out and thrust it into the wound again. A great howl went up from the dog; I could feel the vibration through my blade as the beast shuddered.
Now free, d’Artagnan crawled, nearly enveloped in the unnatural fog, until Billy grabbed him and pulled him back into the circle. The hound turned on me and lunged with its long neck. I twisted away behind its tail but a cloud of its hot fetid breath enveloped me, and I gagged. Something sprang into vision on my left side. A long-eared creature with a pig’s snout and yellow tusks was already reaching for me. In the same instant, I heard a report and saw the creature’s head jerk to one side, steam and black blood shooting from the wound. It placed a claw to its head and gave a strange cry like a baby. The hellhound sent it sprawling as it whirled around to grab me.
I dived for the safety of the magic circle and rolled inside, just as the black dog, roaring with pain and dripping gore, rose up on its hind legs and reached the invisible wall. It was a hellish scene inside our sanctuary. Ashmole was furiously stabbing his ramrod into a pistol, ranting to himself as he reloaded. D’Artagnan lay screaming in agony, arms sprawled in the thin grass while Billy tried to hold his leg to wrap it in a sleeve he had ripped from the musketeer’s doublet. And the look of unbelieving shock on poor Isabel’s face cut me to the heart. She still clasped Maggie tightly in her arms, giving comfort and trying to draw out some for herself. But I could not see Maggie’s face, pressed as it was into Isabel’s bosom. Only Roderigo da Silva stood unbowed. He faced the horde of Andras’s minions, the very cutting prow of our symbolic little ship, praying loudly as if in song.
And they jeered at him, snarled at him, and rent the air with their claws. I saw one turn and bare his arse. But not one dared violate the circle and the Great Pentacle of Solomon. In spite of all their abominable strength and howling rage, they still feared the power that lay behind it. Yet, here we were and there they were—at least a dozen of them, capering and watching us with hungry eyes.
“How bad is he?” I leaned over Billy’s shoulder as the Dorsetman finished knotting the scrap of fabric around d’Artagnan’s leg.
“His calf is bloody mincemeat,” said Billy. “And he has passed out from the pain. Guess that’s lucky for him.” He looked up at me. “We’re fucking trapped in here, aren’t we?”
“It’s stalemate,” Ashmole said quietly. He hefted his freshly loaded pistols and looked out into the demon horde.
And that’s when it struck me. I swore aloud despite the fact that we were hanging by one thin holy thread of prayer. I was a soldier. Gideon Fludd was a soldier. His very absence should have told me what he was up to.
“He’s outflanked us,” I said.
“What do you mean?” said Ashmole.
“He’s bottled us up here while he is making his way to Cromwell. I’d wager my life on it.”
“Wager?” Billy chuckled darkly. “We’ve got no more credit, Mister Eff.”
Isabel was still rocking the bundle of ragged clothes that was Maggie. I knelt down next to them and gently pulled Maggie’s shoulder so that I could see her face. I leaned in towards her, whispering her name. Her eyes were open, and looking into mine, but she was looking through me. She was not seeing me. She was not seeing anything around her. Whatever horrors she had glimpsed in the last day and night had robbed her of all sense and speech. I cupped her cheek with my hand.
“Maggie, come back to me.”
But there was nothing from her. She stared on, motionless. Her flesh was chill to my touch. Isabel was watching me, her large dark eyes glistening with tears. Slowly, she gathered Maggie up again and pulled her close.
I stood and turned to Roderigo da Silva. He looked at me, a strange calm on his deathly pale face. “Senor,” I said, “The Moon Pentacle. How do I work it? How does it open doors?”
His sunken eyes seemed to widen a bit. “You cannot attempt to use this thing! You must not dare.”
“I already have, Senor. Tell me what I need to know and hurry, I beg you.”
“Why, you must be pure... pure in spirit,” he began, stuttering with surprise. “That is the most important thing. Without that, the pentacle will fail you and the evil ones will overwhelm you.”
“And the charm? The words?”
Da Silva turned to face the demons that were slowly encroaching on the circle again. “You must speak the names of the Lord, for that is whence the power derives.” And in a loud voice he cried out: “Adonai! Elohim! El Shaddai!”
As one, the devils clapped hands to their misshapen ears, cringing and jumping, scalded by the only thing that could burn them. Da Silva reached out for my wrist and gripped it tightly.
“If you do not believe, sir, you will surely die!”
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I nodded, fully understanding what he was telling me. “The Lord will bear me up in his hand, sir.”
I had seen what the pentacle had done to the pig man. And tonight, under the influence of the full moon, it was at its flood tide of power. Fludd had wanted it to redouble his control over the minions of his pretending angel. I could do the same thing.
“Keep the others safe,” I said.
Billy was still in a crouch, his silver sword across his knees. He was looking at me, waiting for the command.
“Billy Chard, you and I are going upstairs to pay a call on Mister Cromwell.”
Chapter Twenty
“A LITTLE MORE haste, Mister Eff!”
Billy’s wrist snapped his sword sharply in an upwards slash, ripping open the black neck of a thing that possessed the head of a gargantuan wasp, great mandibles clacking as it tried to bite his blade. It thrashed at the top of the wooden steps, wisps of steam or smoke pouring from its wound, and tumbled back down the staircase, taking with it another devil.
I stood, forehead pressed to the oak door of the palace entrance, the pentacle in my shaking hand. Though I had said the names of God, as da Silva told me, the door had not moved an inch.
Ashmole’s pistol thundered again below us. Two more creatures had bounded to the top of the shingled landing, and Billy sent one sprawling with a curse and a boot in its belly. The other snatched at him but he leapt back and brought his blade smashing down into its skull.
He called out again, his words expelled between great gasps of breath. “They’ve latched onto us now, Mister Eff. We can’t get back down again so you better get us in!”
I stepped back and looked down the great staircase to see more than a dozen glowing eyes bobbing below, moving slowly upwards, the rasp of claws on the wooden treads enough to freeze the marrow.
I turned to the iron-bound door again. This time I placed the pentacle against the centre of the boards, my palm spread wide. And I cleared my mind and then quietly said the names of the Lord in the Hebrew tongue. And then in English. But there was no reward for my efforts; no sound of turning bolt or lock. Suddenly, Billy cried out and I wheeled to see him falling back with two devils on him, one the size of a child. I struck the head from one and Billy managed to free himself from the small one, scratching and screeching before punching it away with a gloved fist. I caught a glimpse of Billy hauling himself up again against the railing and then I was knocked off my feet by a black hissing winged ape. I tumbled backwards and into the door—which opened under my weight as easily as you please.
I was inside the palace, but with the creature on my chest and pinning my sword arm. It thrashed and jutted its head, pressing hard to sink its hooked yellow fangs into my throat. My right hand flew up, the pentacle firmly in my grasp, and with a punch I shoved the silver disc into its jaws. There was a tremendous burst of steam and stinking blood as the devil’s head exploded. The thing flopped sideways to the floor, twitching. Billy stood firm in the doorway, dispatching another demon with a savage cut then flinging the massive door shut. And I finally breathed when I heard the bolt slam home.
I propped myself up on an elbow, rubbing the gore from my face with the back of my gauntlet. The pentacle lay next to me, still sparkling despite the black blood that was spattered upon it. I reached out and grasped it, then slid it into my breeches pocket. Outside, the demons began to pound on the thick door, its hinges rattling with every blow.
“Aye, batter away, you bastards,” spat Billy. “They’ll not get through wood that stout.” He came over and helped hoist me up, his eyes momentarily fixed on the corpse of the demon. Already it seemed to be congealing, melting away as if its skeleton had somehow vanished inside it. “Come on, Mister Eff. Are you still whole?”
I nodded, glancing around the hallway. It was not totally dark. A large brass wall sconce threw out some light from its three candles, still flickering though nearly burned away to nubs. More candlelight spilled from around a corner a few yards away. But the ancient wood panelling, dark as sable, gave the hallway a sinister appearance, all the more alarming because there was nothing but silence within.
“You suppose the guards have fled, or gone over to Fludd and the Fifth men?” Billy hefted his blade and took a few steps towards the north end of the hallway.
“I fear it’s worse than that,” I replied.
There was something in the air inside the palace. Not a smell, but more a heaviness that brushed the nape of one’s neck like the hand of a ghost. I knew it was more than mere imaginings. It was a presence of the unholy, of something dreadful. Billy could sense it too.
“We’re being watched, I swear it,” he said, voice low.
“We may be too late. Pray that Fludd has not discovered Cromwell’s apartments yet.” I moved past Billy, sword at my waist, level to the floor and held back like a spring. I knew only that the Lord General’s lodgings faced onto the deer park. So long as we continued along the corridor, we would eventually find them. Billy moved up to my right, two steps behind as we approached the corner. Rounding this, the corridor turned again on itself left. Here, our way was lit by moonbeams through the long windows that lined the hall.
“Look!” Billy was at a window, the basket hilt of his sword slamming into the frame. Below us, outside, we could see the magic circle and the small cluster of figures inside it. And it was surrounded by moving shadows, black things that capered and crawled about, giving no peace to those who sheltered within it.
“We can only help them by killing Fludd, and quickly,” I said. “Keep moving!”
I had never been in this part of Whitehall before. It was damned old, the wainscoting cracked right through with age in places, the floors creaking so loudly we could be heard in Westminster. We moved on, and soon came to a large panelled door. This was unlocked and we found ourselves entering a large square chamber, devoid of furnishings but lit by more wall sconces. A railing to our right overlooked a vast open room below—the old Cockpit theatre. It smelled of wood rot and mould, harsh moonlight shining down from the windows along the cupola above it. We carried on, passing through another open door at the far end of the chamber. There upon the floor, propped up in a sitting position, chin upon chest, was a man.
Billy pulled the hat off the figure, who didn’t even flinch. “By Jesus, it’s Thurloe!”
I knelt down next to him. “Is he dead?”
“Why... I think he’s fucking pissed!”
Thurloe moaned a bit, his head flopping to one side. Billy gave him a shake but Thurloe only slid further down the wall.
“He’s not drunk,” I said. “He has been magicked—enchanted by some unnatural sleep.”
Billy’s hands jumped from Thurloe’s doublet as if he too might be caught by the spell. Looking into the next room, another antechamber by the look of it, I could see a pile of bodies stretched out on the floor. “Roundheads,” I said.
“So much for the bloody army then,” said Billy. “Looks like we’re too late.”
Sweat was pouring down his long face, his complexion the colour of his buff leather jerkin. His chest heaved deeply—he still had not caught his breath from the fight on the stairs outside. He was dying before my eyes.
I smiled a little and touched his forearm. “More campaigning than you expected when you signed up?”
He gave me a grin, dropping his head a bit. “As recruiting sergeants come, Mister Eff, you were damned convincing.”
I stood up and looked back along the hallway. “Something’s coming.”
It was a shuffling kind of noise, the sound of soft-shod feet accompanied by the clicking rasp of claws as if a dog was padding its way towards us. Billy was up fast, raising his sword and settling his grip anew. “You reckon they knocked their way through?”
I took a few steps towards the large square chamber we had just come through, trying my damndest to peer down the black panelled hallway with its gutting candles. And then they walked into view from around a corner. Two of
the strangest creatures I had ever seen, straight out of a wine-soaked nightmare. They were walking side by side, like two old friends and neither taller than three foot. One was akin to a great hedgehog, a long snout protruding down, prickles covering its head. It had long arms and even longer claws and it walked upright with a kind of loping gait. All the while it was speaking some sing-song tongue to its companion, harsh and lisping, its long fingers flexing open. Its palms were pink as a man’s.
The other was a man, but as misshapen as any farm-born monster. It had a huge bald head that sat atop a stocky naked torso. No neck, the thing had to turn its entire body to look at its nattering friend. But it was its horrid mouth that struck me. It was like a wound from ear to ear, filled with yellow teeth and unnaturally wide. Its pug nose and small black eyes were a far cry from the creature next to it; the hedgehog had large orange orbs like a snake, black slits for pupils. So intent were they in their infernal conversation, they did not see us until they were nearly upon us. They stopped up short, the hedgehog’s claws scrabbling loudly. They stared, fearless. From between them emerged an even smaller creature. It was black as coal, a monkey with leathery wings that rose up from its hunched back. And I recognised it for the black thing that had visited me in my cell the previous night. It extended a long thin arm at me and let out a screech to wake the dead.
Billy swore and suddenly pushed past me. “I’ll send these little shits back to hell!”
“Billy, no!” I grabbed at his baldric to pull him back but he was moving too fast. I fumbled in my pocket for the pentacle but even as I drew it out, I saw the man-like thing open its huge maw, the top of its head practically falling backwards. It crouched a little, spindly arms and legs tensed, and then unleashed a gale of rank breath down the hallway straight at Billy. The force of this unholy wind knocked Billy backwards and blew him along the floorboards. I heard him hit the far wall with a sickening crunch. And he moved no more. Before the demon could aim a blast at me, I raised the Pentacle of the Moon and held it out before me.
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